Beu’s father often warned him, _a boring life is a peaceful one_. A fish that years for the sky becomes a birds prey, a pig that craves freedom withers in hunger, and a boy who seeks the darkness invites his own destruction. But no amount of cautionary tales can sate a growing little boys curiosity.

As Beu worked alongside his father, he peppered him with questions. “Will the paladins stop by?”

“No, Beu.”

“Did they find the Sword Phantom?”

“They’ll find him soon enough.”

“Can we see the execution if they do?”

"No."

"Please?"

“I said no.”

“Why not?”

"Beu!" His father slammed his axe down, splitting a chunk of wood in half and tossing the pieces into a cart. Sweat and sawdust covered his shirt, and his eyes, red rimmed by lack of sleep, were outlines by tired dark circles. “You should ignore these types of things…they’re not good to talk about.”

The little boy looked up at his father with narrowing eyes. “But Joseph talks about these things with you _all _the time.”

“That’s because Joseph is a mongrel with nothing to do but gossip. So stop asking silly questions.”

Beu pouted. His father was an _extraordinarily_ boring man. Unlike Joseph who travled around the district delivering letters, and his neighbor Cath who was engaged to nobility and spoke to earls and paladins, his father did nothing but cut wood. And farm. And sometimes, if Beu was lucky, he would talk too. But those days would seldom come.

His father looked up at the darkening sky and said, “deliver some wood to Cath for the night.”

Beu chuckled. “Joseph said delivering flowers to a lady is what they truly want.”

His father stifled a smile. “Not to an engaged lady.”

“Engagement doesn’t mean marriage.”

“What has Joseph been teaching you?” His father asked, shaking his head.

_A lot. _

“Nothing. I’ll get going now.”

He grabbed a crate of wood and walked away. The path to her home was through the woods and up a narrow hill covered in sunflowers. He picked a few of them and placed them in the cart.

“Cath!” He yelled, knocking on the door. “Cath! Cath!” Cath, open up! Ca-“

The door swung open and Cath stepped out, her hair wet and nose red.

“What brings you here?” she asked, drying her hair with a rag

“Your going to get sick. Isn’t it too cold to be washing?”

Cath smiled sweetly. “When did you become a wise little man?”

“I’m not little.”

In fact, Cath was the little one here. For a woman of 30, her hight was almost as short as Beu’s.

Beu extended his arms out and passed her the crate. “Father told me to send these. Warm up or eat them, I don’t care.”

Cath ruffled his hair with an amused expression. “Are you angry I called you little?”

“_Goodbye Cath_”Beu said, imitating the same annoyed tone his father would use on him. “Oh, and the flowers are from my father.”

He walked back, touching every low hanging branch he could. _I’m not little. _

The moon had risen earlier than usual, or Beu had gotten slower, but by the time he arrived home the night had already come.

He took off his shoes and placed them by the front door, and turned to go to bed. Then he turned back. His fathers shoes weren’t there.

_Was he still working?_

Beu called out to his father, and when he heard no response he put his shoes back on and carried a lantern outside.

“Father! Where are you!”

Only crickets and the sound of his feet on the grass could be heard.

“Father!” Beus mind immediately began thinking of the worst things possible. What if his father had gotten hurt? What if he got lost looking for Beu because he took so long?

_No, _Beu thought. _Father_ _would never get hurt. And he would especially never get lost. _

“Father?” He called out one last time.

_Snap_.

Beu turned his head. The sound came from the pigpen.

_Please be there father, _he pleaded to himself_. _

The_ _pigs watched Beu as he approached, shining the lanterns on their muddy faces. Something laughed. Someone. And it wasn’t his father.

Beu slowly raised his head. At that moment he wished to gouge his eyes out.

A man with a thin pale face and long raven hair carried a sword and swung it back and forth leisurely. He wore a thick black robe, but even in the dark, even with its color, he could still see the red.

The man was not alone. Bellow him was his fathers mutilated body.

“Ah!” Beu cried, dropping the lamp on his foot and illuminating his fathers body more.

He could only tell it was his fathers body by the clothes. The face was torn off. So was the tongue. One arm lied a foot away from the body, and another was being grabbed by the man’s spare hand.

“Ah! Father!”

Beu struggled breathing. His breaths came short and paniced.

_Help me. Help, _he wanted to scream.

But the only person who could help him now was chopped and mangled.

Beu tried getting up but his legs were paralyzed in fear. Instead, he dragged himself to his father and put his head to his chest. Beus head sunk in. A warm wet liquid coated the side of his face.

_His heart was ripped out_.

Beu screamed, pushing himself off his father and scooting away until his back hit the wood of the pig pen.

The man chuckled. Then, he ripped out remaining arm.

_Stop, get way from him. _The words caught at his tongue.

“So little” the man whispered. “Ha. This really is a mess, isn’t it?”

Beus trembling hands clutched the grass. “You-you killed him! You did this!”

The man looked around. “Oh really? Sorry, I think you have he wrong man.”

_I hate you. I hate you. Die, die, die, die, die._

“I hate you.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“I hate you! You killed my father!” Beu cried. “You didn’t have to kill him! He’s inoccent, he’s…”

“Ah” the man said, crouching in front of the boy. His bloody hand lifted Beu’s chin so he was forced to look into his eyes.

“The pigs are innocent and they’re slaughtered on a farm. The trees are inoccent and they get cut down. Deers are inoccent and they are hunted. I hope you take this as a lesson that inoccence is not a shield, my boy. It’s a weakness.”

Beu trembled, closing his eyes so he no longer had to look in the face of the wicked man.

“That’s not the same. You know that’s not the same!”

“Oh, but it makes perfect sence. The prey get preyed on.”

Beu swallowed loudly. “Are you going to kill me?”

The man let go of his face. “Of course not. You see this?”

Beu kept his eyes shut. The man forced them open.

He pointed at his eyes, that glowed a deep purple. “It gives me great powers. But you see, it also makes me hungry. And little boys like you are too thin to even be considered a snack.”

_He’s a phantom_, Beu finally realized. The Sword Phantom.

He vomited on himself at the realization.

The Phantom Sword got up and dragged the body with him.

“I’m sorry for the abrupt exit, but I have a meal to eat.”

His father and the Phantom disappeared into the woods, leaving a crimson trail through the farm.

Beu didn’t move from his spot. For four days he stayed there, unable to form a clear thought or tear his eyes away from his fathers stray arm.

Cath found him eventually, and the young boy was brought to her new home, away from the little farm that haunted his dreams.

And though he seemed to be doing better after years, there was only thing on his mind.

_I will kill every phantom. I will slaughter them like animals._

__

__

That was the making of the phantom killer.

***

I know it says serial killer monologue but I am an overwriter so I wrote a story to go along with it. Also, hi, thanks for reading till the end ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡